


His Human Perception

by suqua (cwsunrise)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bunker Fic, Domestic, Human Castiel, M/M, Post Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cwsunrise/pseuds/suqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has never been fully at the wheel of his vessel, his human mind has time to focus on the little things. Dean watches as Castiel learns to appreciate his human senses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Human Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Taste, Sight, Touch, Smell, & Hearing.

As soon as things quieted down a little, Dean figured that he’d get down to teaching Human 101 to Castiel. Without a shred of grace in him, he was prey to hunger, sickness, paper cuts… you name it. He was a squishy human like the rest of them, vulnerable as hell. But soon enough, Dean also realized that Castiel wasn’t useless. So it seemed he really didn’t _need_ most of Human 101. Then there were the tiny, forgotten things that he apparently had to show him.

The guilt was obviously weighing on his shoulders, heavy and burdensome. They all knew that there was a long road ahead of them and they didn’t know what the hell they were doing, but the angels had fallen and they had to do something about that.

At the very least they had to help Castiel. With whatever he needed: getting his grace back, helping his fallen siblings, hunting, beekeeping, or whatever he wanted.

But lately, all it seemed Castiel wanted was to watch the world with childlike fascination. Dean didn’t like to discourage it, since it seemed Castiel forgot to feel guilt or sorrow when he was examining a new aspect of his human life. And hell, maybe he needed those little breaks.

Castiel explained around a week after that night, when Sam was starting to pluck up again, that while he was operating as an angel in a vessel, his senses were dulled because they were not actually his nor did he have traditional human perception in them. With this spell, this transformation, he was truly at the reins for this body. Everything he experienced was for him alone, through no barrier.

Sometimes Castiel resented it, the fact that he enjoyed that which Metatron had forced upon him. But that didn't stop him from reacting with wonder whenever he experienced something new, or something he thought he had known but in his human body truly experienced.

They weren't moving to do something about the fallen angels immediately, so watching Castiel adjust became an everyday occurence.

Some of his more obvious reactions came from when they ate. It was fuel, of course, but soon they started eating more interesting things to see if Castiel liked or disliked them. Spicy food, sweet food... He reacted differently to each.

It was like watching a baby take it's first bite of a lemon. Fascinating and a little funny.

 

* * *

 

  **1.** **Air**

_It’s so cold, Castiel tries to breathe and feels a rush of panic in his chest briefly when it almost feels like he can’t; like there isn’t something working right. But it happens suddenly, some sort of memory kicking in and he takes it in. With a single inhalation, he takes a lungful of air through his dry lips that fills his throat with crisp, cold air passes his tongue. For a second, he thinks that it’s beautiful._

_Until the second, third breath and Castiel realizes that he can’t_ stop _breathing._

_His first human breaths taste like the forest._

* * *

 

**2\. Coffee**

 

A few mornings into a restful, quiet world, Castiel had stumbled from his bedroom and into the kitchen. He had bedhead, pajamas on, and the dazed expression of the recently woken. He still hadn't gotten used to sleeping nightly but he was doing better.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Dean called over, to which Castiel turned his entire body to face him.

In Dean’s hand was a steaming cup of black coffee. Castiel took one slow step ahead, that curious look on his face again, before stepping a bit closer. Human or not, Castiel was a poor judge of personal space. Castiel tilted his head, looked down at the cup as though he’d not seen a cup of coffee in his life.

“May I?” he inquired, gesturing awkwardly to the cup.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Dean slowly held out the cup. Castiel takes it, taking a sip and promptly scalding his lips and tongue. He makes a noise of displeasure at that, but swallows it anyway.

He stares into the distance a moment, tongue making a clicking noise as he contemplated the taste.

“It’s bitter,” he says quietly, handing it back to Dean. “Stronger than I expected.”

Dean’s eyebrow arched. “Haven’t you had coffee before?” He asked cautiously. Asking about pre-humanification was kind of a rocky ground for them sometimes.

A nod. “Many times, in fact.” His eyes go soft, “I had thought I liked it.”

There’s quiet suddenly, that awkward silence kind. Dean fidgets his thumb against the mug before he holds it out. “I'll put some milk and sugar in it, then you can finish it, Cas. I’ll get another cup,” he said, to which Castiel did and Dean walked toward the cupboard, “And just so you know, I make a _great_ cuppa coffee. So next time we’re out, I’ll buy you a crappy cup of coffee, then you’ll appreciate my coffee even more.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel responds, both to the cup and the offer. “I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

**3.** **Ice cream**

They’re getting a little too domestic and sappy, Dean decided as he plonked a bunch of groceries on the kitchen counter. They’d just gone grocery shopping as a group, the three of them. And that meant indulging Castiel’s curiosities about food he’d never tried before. They’d had to say no, sometimes.

Like with some protein milkshakes or purple ketchup. Just, no. It had taken entirely too long to convince the grown man-former-angel, while people were actually looking, that purple ketchup tastes exactly the same as regular ketchup because they’re both ketchup.

They do wind up with five different flavors of Ben and Jerry’s after realizing there wasn’t much in their freezer anyway. Dean eyed a container of Chubby Hubby for a moment, reminding himself that they needed a good meal beforehand. It was tempting, though.

He was in the pantry collecting a few things for dinner when he hears noises: a drawer being pulled out and silverware rustling, some tapping noises. “Cas? Sam?” he questions, grabbing a couple things then heading out.

All five Ben and Jerry’s ice cream containers are open on the counter, three already had a hearty couple of spoonfuls scooped out. Both Castiel and Sam are standing around the counter, Castiel was holding the container of Chubby Hubby and scooping out a little. He didn’t know to look guilty, but Sam did. Sam was trying the avoiding-the-eyes thing that definitely didn't work.

“Guys, dinner! You’re gonna spoil your-,“ Dean shuts up instantly when he sees Sam look at him with his eyebrows skyrocketed. He points at Sam. “Don’t you say a word, Sammy.”

Sam shrugs and takes a seat at a bar stool at the counter, pulling over a container of the limited edition Cannoli flavor they’d managed to snag. “I wasn’t going to say anything, Dean,” he said too casually, taking another spoonful.

“Dean,” Castiel says, licking his spoon. “You need to try these. They’re amazing.”

Sighing, Dean drops everything and snatches the spoon out of Castiel’s hand, picking up the Chubby Hubby again. “I know they’re amazing, Cas,” he says, taking a mouthful of the Chubby Hubby and sighing around it. “I’ve tried them all.”

“That one is my favorite,” Castiel says, nodding to the container in Dean’s hand.

Dean glances between Castiel and the pint in his hand. Dinner actually wasn’t going to be anything special. Hell, they were adults and adults could eat whatever they damn well pleased. “Well,” he said, handing it off. “Go nuts, Cas.”

And he does. Dean watches Castiel go to town on the ice cream, a small smile on his face.

* * *

 

**4\. Beer/Soda**

It’s a little tricky to get an actual TV installed in the bunker. It involves what feels like miles of cords and a carefully positioned antenna in a tree. Cable seems out of the question since the last thing they wanted was a cable guy finding out about the secret society’s secret bunker.

“Hey. Sammy!” Dean called from their somewhat new living room area. They’d had to clear out some stuff, prop a TV on what was probably some kind of communication apparatus. A football game was on, something they didn't partake in much or at all growing up but were trying out.

Sam, stuck in the kitchen throwing together soup on his calendar-recorded turn for cooking dinner, called out a simple, “What?”

Dean yelled back, unnecessarily loud, “Get me a beer?”

“For the- Ugh. Fine! Give me a minute.”

He turned to his left a little, nudged Castiel’s shoulder with his hand. “You want one?”

Castiel was carefully observing a commercial, some kind of breakfast yogurt. “A beer?” he said, thinking about it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one.”

Dean’s mouth made an ‘o’ and he fidgeted a little. “…Well, wanna try it?”

“I would, yes.”

“Well, you’re not wasting one of mine if you don’t like it,” he muttered, calling out again: “Sammy!”

“I said a minute, Dean!”

“I know, I know. Bring one of those root beers for Cas, too?”

Sam comes into the living room area not two minutes later with both and hands them over. “I’m trying to cook, Dean,” he says with a sigh, looking up and noting the commercials just ending. “And you could’ve gotten up yourself!”

Dean grins. “Soup smells great, Sammy.”

For a second, Sam looks pretty annoyed but it softens a little and he mutters, “Thanks,” before going back to the kitchen.

Dean smiles and twists the beer cap off of his bottle while Castiel waits. He takes first swig of it, appreciating the crispness, before handing it over. “Here,” he said, smiling a little.

He’s banking on Castiel disliking it.

And he’s not wrong. Castiel takes a short swig before he chokes and barely manages to keep the mouthful in. “This is vile,” he says roughly, handing it back to Dean as he wiped a bit of it from his chin. “I don’t see how you enjoy drinking it.”

Trying not to laugh, Dean can’t help it anyway. “It’s an acquired taste, Cas. Hey, try this.”

He passes the root beer over to Castiel who looks at it uneasily. “I don’t know if-“

“Just try it!”

With a twist of the cap, Castiel smells the contents of the bottle this time. A sweet fragrance emits from it so he takes a cautious sip. The bubbly, silk-sweet root beer attacks his taste buds and he goes breathless a moment. “This is marvelous,” he rumbled wondrously, rolling the taste with his tongue. Dean doesn’t watch him smack his lips.

He thought it was interesting that Castiel seemed to have a sweet tooth.

 

* * *

  

**5\. Pie**

The second, the _second_ , Dean realizes Castiel has never actually tasted pie, he’s throwing ingredients together and making a pie as fast as he can. He runs into the roadblock of no ingredients for the filling so he actually jumps in the car and retrieves fresh apples from a nearby farmer’s market.

Soon, there’s a slice of warm pie sitting on a plate in front of Castiel.

But when he reaches for a fork, Dean scolds: “Hey, no. Wait for the ice cream, Cas.”

Castiel knows the taste of ice cream now, and dutifully waits. A generous scoop is spooned on top of the steaming-hot slice of pie and beings to melt instantly. He waits, watching the ice cream slowly liquefy. After a second, Dean makes a snuffling noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh and Castiel look at him. “Dean,” he says, unamused, “May I eat it now?”

There were rituals for pie-eating in the Winchester household.

Just grinning, Dean nods. “Dig in, man.”

Maneuvering his fork with ease, Castiel broke off the front point and then turned it to bring a bit of ice cream onto it as well. It’s as he’s coaxing a bit of ice cream onto the pie that he notices Dean is watching him. It’s startlingly obvious why.

Pie had always been one of Dean’s favorite things in the world, connected to a dear memory of his mother. To Dean Winchester, a pie equalled love. Sam would usually have the same insistant shove of pie under his nose, but Castiel's lack of pie consumption while he had functional human taste buds had been a priority.

Castiel treads carefully, bringing the bite to his mouth. The mouthful is a complex mixture of textures: pastry that is dry but also moist, softened apple pieces, a thick syrup, and the creaminess of the ice cream. There are a few flavors he can now recognize, such as cinnamon, apple, and the vanilla ice cream. “I find it fascinating,” he says around a full mouth, “that things can taste so differently depending on how they’re cooked. Raw apple does not taste like this. Osmosis. The sugar, it draws the moisture from the fruit, retaining the texture but softening it. It’s a miracle that it didn’t get too soggy, Dean.”

Dean’s staring at him when he finishes talking, mouth opening and wearing his confused expression before he chooses to focus on the last thing Castiel said. “My pie does not get soggy,” he said, very serious. “Ever, Cas. _Ever!_ ”

Then Dean goes quiet again, leaning on the counter on his forearm and breaking off bites of pie and eating them slowly. He savors one bite before he speaks again, “So you uh, remember all that stuff? All those random facts, science, and history? Like when you were an angel?”

Eating his own pie, Castiel is mid-bite when Dean asks and he lets himself slow on chewing this one so he can think. He does swallow, rotating the spoon in his hand. “Most things,” he said quietly. “Things that aren’t impossible for humans to know. A certain portion of history, a great deal of science and mathematics but everything past the ability of a human is out of reach for me now.” Universe-sized equations were out of the question at the very least. A great deal of ancient history felt much more distant than before, foggy memories rather than crystal-clear. “There is a limit to my mind now.”

He doesn’t know if, by experiencing humanity, he is slowly pushing old information out. He had always thought that angels would forget upon losing it as safety, to not push their human brain too far.

After a moment, Dean says, “Sucks.”

Castiel nods slightly, a twitch of a smile pulling at his lip anyway. He takes the last bite of his pie and with a warm smile, tells Dean, “Thank you. I very much like pie, Dean.”

Dean feels a thing in his chest and tries his damndest to ignore it.

 

* * *

 

 **\+ Dean**  

Days slip by and Castiel gets used to eating. That fact is not surprising anymore. 

He found he liked sweet things the most, but too much artificial flavoring made him sick. Natural sugars, such as that found in fruit, were his favorite. Pie was his favorite food that Dean would make for him, a culinary scientific marvel to his taste buds.

They were in one of the newer rooms of the bunker, what was once a section of the library had been moved around a little with some comfortable couches and a TV Dean grabbed from the nearest electronic store.

They were almost ready, he kept saying, almost ready to hunt again and deal with everything. Dean was the one putting it off, citing Sam's recovery and getting Castiel used to human life. 

To them, it just sounded like Dean was trying to keep them out of harm's way. Considering how their lives went, a few extra days didn't seem like that bad an idea. Sam let it be known that he was still feeling sick now and then, like the spell lingered in his system waiting for it to finish. Castiel experienced things like paper cuts for the first time, complained every five minutes about it for hours, and was well aware that there were many tiny things about human life that he was rusty at. Dean just wanted to keep them all safe for a little longer. They didn't have much to do about the fallen angels just yet, just fact-gathering. Crowley was still quiet, 

Finally came the night where things reached the point of no return. 

If they needed to, they could’ve blamed their tiny glasses of alcohol just after dinner, Sam having gone to bed early, the chill in the room, or perhaps just the encroaching desire to do so…

Maybe it was because things were quiet and peaceful for once and it seemed okay to let go. Whatever it was, it happened.

Dean wasn’t sitting anymore, leaning back onto a pillow against the arm of the sofa. Castiel was stretched out over most of him, Dean’s legs parted with one foot still on the floor. They’d shared a look before it happened, a smoldering one that had gone on those few seconds longer than any before. Castiel was the one who closed the scant bit of air between them. His hand on the back of Dean’s neck, fingers in the short hair at his nape. Castiel was unpracticed with gentle kisses, a little too overenthusiastic as he tries to push into it too hard. But Dean’s holding onto him, steadies him a little and softens their lips together.

Until it’s something else. When Dean’s mouth moves against his own and their tongues slowly enter the equation, Castiel’s hands grip a little. There's something much more electric, heated and perfect about this than anything.

When they come up for air, neither go very far and it’s several long kisses before either of them really speak.

Castiel tells Dean he has a new favorite taste, rivalling Dean’s apple pie. And when he tells him, Dean goes red and tells him that it’s the cheesiest thing he’s ever heard. But it’s true: his favorite thing is the taste of Dean’s kiss on his lips.

He’s almost afraid that he’s said something wrong, but Dean pulls him back into a kiss that rivals the last.

Castiel presses soothing kisses when he can, finding he also likes to kiss Dean’s cheeks and beside his nose, his jaw and neck. Dean tilts his head and words occasionally drift from his mouth. But they eventually trickle down to soft sounds and whispers of his name.

They go to bed late that night. 


End file.
